On the edge of my eye
stays one tear,
made with water of misery
added to salt of fear.
It never falls
off the eye,
a constant reminder
painful and sly,
It resides on
a bleak hope,
deriving a dream
quite out of scope.
With bow held up,
arrow aimed right,
sole visual of target
bets a winning hit
but then the tear plays
its game,
It blurs my vision
threatening precision
right in the moment
before I could launch the arrow
it sets the focus haywire
a reprise of life's satire
The same old tear
holds for years now
Almost like a part
of me
but still could not
build the apathy
to deal and carry on
with some impulse
it hits back
intermittently
slyly disrupts upon
On the edge of my eye,
stays one tear,
made with water of misery
added to salt of fear
